


Want of a Coil

by 131DI



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M, guest starring: original alien ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/131DI/pseuds/131DI
Summary: Sarah Jane and the Doctor visit an alien market to peruse street foods, talk to the locals, and hopefully acquire some rare parts. Not all goes as planned, but at least Sarah gets a fun souvenir out of their visit! Then, the Doctor's mishap snowballs into an overdue shift in their relationship.
Relationships: Fourth Doctor/Sarah Jane Smith
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Want of a Coil

**Author's Note:**

> There's some frank discussion of reproduction in this that was fun to write, unfortunately much to Sarah's embarrassment. She signed up for life with Four so she has to expect some degree of this kind of detachment, even when it comes to sex, but Four gives great head so she'll get used to it.
> 
> This story is set between "Pyramids of Mars" and "The Android Invasion."

Sarah fiddled with the wire resting across her collarbones. Oblong coins of varying sizes were strung across the wire through holes in their centers and gathered at the bottom of the metal curve. It was heavier than any necklace she’d ever worn, though not uncomfortable.

“Are you sure it’s safe to wear this money?” she asked. “I feel like someone’s going to grab it right off my neck.”

“Certainly,” said the Doctor, not looking up from his device. “That’s how everyone carries their currency here. Or on the wrist, or the waist, or somewhere else on their person.” He jangled his own set of coins which hung from an identical wire clip on the waist of his trousers and looked more like a set of jailer’s keys than anything.

“I feel silly. I’d rather carry a wallet.”

“Nonsense, it’s most appropriate here for women to wear their money just as you are. You’ll be fine.”

That was apparently that, as the Doctor didn’t respond further and started on his way down the busy main path of the marketplace. Sarah followed by a few paces, still busy adjusting the cloth wrap around her hair. She tucked the tails over her shoulder and picked up speed to fall in place next to the Doctor. Her coins clinked with each step.

They were here for a handful of reasons, among them a few curios that had caught the Doctor’s attention. Lured by the siren song of a massive alien market, they touched down earlier that afternoon and set about getting their funds in order to acquire said parts. Sure that she would find something she also wanted, the Doctor gave Sarah a fair sum to spend as she pleased, as well as a warning not to wander too far. Urim was a beautiful world with lots to see and plenty to do, but in big interstellar meets such as this, one was bound to find trouble if one went sticking one’s nose in places it didn’t belong. Sarah was happy to stay close and had no intention of winding up in some seedy back-alley sale that day.

Neat stalls lined the streets for as far as she could see. Manning several of the counters were slim, long-necked aliens that Sarah thought looked a bit like hairless stoats. Colorful fanning crests running along their spines and many of them wore large, bulbous goggles over beady eyes. Alongside them were minuscule humanoids that looked to be made of living wood with large swathes of leaves in place of hair. It amazed her to see how often familiar shapes popped up among sentient species in the universe, and how often utterly bizarre ones emerged instead. 

One of the slim aliens bobbed its head at her as she passed its table. She nodded back politely and was immediately grabbed by the array of beautiful thin headscarves laid out on top of it.

“I haven’t seen a human through here in a while!” said the alien. His bright red crest perked and flared as he excitedly addressed her. “I see you’re already a fan of scarves. Looking to add more to your collection?”

Sarah eyed a vivid teal and yellow swirl patterned fabric. “Did you make these yourself?”

“Loomed and dyed by hand.”

“What’s it made of?”

“Braxi silk,” supplied the Doctor. “It’s very fine stuff.”

“It’s lovely,” said Sarah. “But silk? With all of our running about...”

“Toughest silk in the galaxy!” said the alien. “Stronger than tensile steel but lighter than a fly’s wing.” He looked the Doctor up and down and made an unmistakably confused face. “I also make other clothing items, if you find you’re too hot in what you’re wearing now.” 

“See, I’m not the only one who thinks you should change for once!” Sarah tittered.

The Doctor held up a hand and waved it dismissively. “I’m perfectly fine with this. I find it quite balmy, actually.”

Stubborn mule.

Amused, the alien bowed. “If you change your mind.”

He handed Sarah a small ticket with the stall’s number on it and they resumed their walk. As they put more distance between themselves and the merchant, Sarah nudged the Doctor gently. “I think some of those would look great on you.”

“Why, is something wrong with this one?” The Doctor, putting on a very serious look of offense, held up one of the long trails of his multicolored scarf. “I’m still quite fond of it, aren’t you?”

“No, nothing’s wrong with it. I mean you should wear it somewhere else. Around your head, like me, or maybe...” She put her hand to her mouth and tapped her lip with her finger. “I’ve seen people wear them like a sash around the waist.”

The Doctor’s fake offense morphed into a grin and he shook his head lightly. “I won’t be doing any shopping for fashion today, Sarah.” His tone shifted to one of mild curiosity and exasperation. “So many species, always so concerned with what they’re wearing. Does it really matter?”

“Oh, spoilsport.” Sarah also smiled. It did matter sometimes, at least a little, but arguing that point with him was a waste of breath. Sarah would’ve very much liked to see him in something else other than his usual attire as she thought he was quite handsome, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud anytime soon. She had no idea how he would take such a statement. “Fine, fine, let’s look for your, er, what was it again?”

“We’re looking for one of these, first and foremost.” The Doctor brought up an image on the data pad in his hands and displayed it to her. A very odd mechanism shaped like so many rolls of garden hose on a reel projected off the screen.

“Why this? It looks like it belongs in a shed.”

“It’s a rare bit of Volkan engineering that is much better off with me than anyone else here. The vast majority of those present at today’s market won’t even know what it is. Junk traders pick up all sorts of scrap for cheap credits, but sometimes scoop up things they shouldn’t, and certainly end up underselling.” He minimized the projection. “Meanwhile I’ve been wondering how they even got their hands on it. Volkan ships are very rare outside their home system. I’ve half a mind to suspect foul play.”

Sarah watched his thoughtful expression shift. “Maybe the ship crashed? Or was derelict. I’ve seen people strip bicycles and cars down to nothing that were only left for a few hours.”

“It’d have to be some fine mess indeed to part them from their ship in the first place. Either way, when we find it, we can’t have them catch on to how valuable it really is.”

Further down the street were food stalls lined with fresh catch from the bay and newly butchered meats. Fruits near to bursting with juice were stacked in careful pyramids next to huge barrels and baskets full of spices, nuts, and grains, and tempting smells of cooked street treats wafted through the air. Sarah took a deep breath and her stomach gave a polite gurgle of interest. Something spicy and sweet tickled her nose above the heady odor of savory kebabs. Before she could say anything, she saw the Doctor slow and turn his attention in the same direction, his curious joy clearly visible.

“Let’s have a look!” he announced, already steering towards the source.

She held back a laugh. ‘First and foremost,’ indeed.

At the nearby cooking stand was one of the wooden-skinned aliens, dutifully tossing spherical pieces of fruit in a rounded pan. Gooey blue sauce coated the fruit’s rich pink flesh, creating a pleasant purplish color. The cook tossed a handful of light colored seeds onto the mixture and they stuck fast to the blue substance. Soon they began to crackle in the heat and snapped like pop candy. Flecks of the sauce splattered onto the cook’s workspace and bubbles began to harden in place on the fruit. She dumped them onto a wire tray and stuck them with wooden picks, excess sauce dripping slowly onto a collection pan below.

Sarah peered closer. “They look like tiny candy apples now that they’ve got those little sticks in them.”

“We’ll take a dozen,” said the Doctor, already detaching a coin.

“You haven’t even asked what it’s made of!”

“I know a good sweet when I see one.”

As they waited for the treats to cool, the cook – a glomera, the Doctor helpfully told her – prepared a second and third batch with lightning quick skill. She winked at Sarah as she worked, then set her sticky hands on her hips to observe her customers.

“Boy, you’re a big fella,” she said, craning her neck to fully take in the Doctor’s visage. “You sure you don’t want two dozen? You’d suck these down in a blink.”

“What are they?” asked Sarah, watching the Doctor as he unclipped another coin.

“My own little creation!” preened the glomera. “It’s real tart, so the sauce is key. And then your seeds here, they give it a little kick.”

She collected the two dozen orbs of fruit and tumbled them into a paper basket before handing it off to the Doctor. Only now did Sarah notice a peculiar blue fruit sitting on the corner of the cook’s workstation. It was shaped like an upside down card suit spade, perhaps even nearer to a cartoon heart. Layers of plump blue skin curled back to reveal a dangling teardrop that was nearly transparent and detailed with blue veins. Tiny dots reflected light on the skin, creating a hypnotizing shimmer across its surface.

“Is that what we’re eating?”

“Yes ma’am. I get ‘em fresh from the edge of the system. Go on, try it! And you folks have yourselves a nice shoppin’ day.”

Sarah and the Doctor both picked a fruit from the basket and tapped them together in a toast. The sauce only barely stuck to itself now that it had hardened.

Flavor exploded in Sarah’s mouth. Under the crunch of the glaze, the cooked fruit mushed into a delicious slurry not unlike a blended pie filling. It coated her mouth in the intense tart sweetness and startled her when the seeds popped against her tongue. 

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said through a full mouth. 

“I told you I knew a good sweet,” said the Doctor.

He ended up taking more of the fruit than Sarah, but she was more than happy to hand over her share. They were good, no doubt, but after a handful the tart juice of the fruit made her tongue feel a little tender, and the sweet glaze was making her thirsty.

As they went on, she snagged a couple bottles of some cold fizzy drink from a stall packed with dry ice displays and handed one to the Doctor. She had no idea what was in it, but since the seller didn’t warn about humans consuming it, she figured it was safe enough. They clinked their bottles together and popped the caps off and covered the rest of the ground to the large tech tent at the end of the pathway.

Unlike the other stalls and tables, this one had an armed guard stationed to one side. The species was unfamiliar to Sarah with its warm red skin and four arms, but the Doctor seemed to recognize it and tensed. He hummed and tapped the neck of the bottle in his hand with his index finger.

“It would seem someone else is greatly interested in the drive coil,” he said.

“And you know that just by looking at her? She’s just a security guard.”

The guard raised an eyebrow at them but remained silent.

“I’d bet on it. You’re looking at a member of a species whose sole means of habitation exists on massive live-ships, rather than a planet. Having a powerful coil of that make would cut fuel costs drastically for a ship of their size.”

“It was barely bigger than a football!”

“It’s very efficient technology.” There was an unusual edge of bitterness to his words that left Sarah puzzled.

As if on cue, another of the guard’s species emerged from the tent holding the coveted item in question and she heard the Doctor groan in frustration. The new arrival chattered excitedly to the guard and motioned to another pathway out of the marketplace and they both were soon out of sight. The Doctor rubbed his cheek and chin as he took a breath to keep his composure.

“You’re actually bothered,” Sarah thought aloud, crossing her arms.

“It’s not the end of the world, or even a galaxy,” he replied.

“You just don’t like it when people beat you to the punch.”

He scowled at her. “I had a few ideas for how to use it. Volkan engineering is one of the easier types to adapt to TARDIS functionality. Far less fiddling about required.”

Sarah sucked air in between her teeth. “Ah.”

“Yes.” He took an angry swig of the fizzy drink.

“You might still find something useful if you look inside?” Sarah suggested, tilting her head at the tent. “I’m sure you could make anything work if you gave yourself enough time.”

“Of course I could! It’s the principle of the thing.”

There was something so very silly about the Doctor at his most petulant. Childish tendencies included a bit of a tantrum now and then, Sarah supposed. She pursed her lips and held back a snicker.

“I saw a few stalls I’d like to look at before we move on,” she said. “Why don’t you go have a look yourself, and we’ll meet back in half an hour?”

The Doctor glanced at her and let some of his frustration melt away. “Best not to waste the chance.”

“That’s the spirit.”

After parting ways, Sarah set a casual pace down the right hand path near the tent, content to enjoy the atmosphere.

Where most of the stalls in the main portion of the meet held craft and food items, the purveyors of the more advanced goods gathered at this end. Ship parts and repair kits, fancy furnishings, and even weaponry lined the street, and it was a bit less busy overall. No surprise there. Street food and head scarves were much cheaper than a refurbished engine or gently used plasma blaster. Although not in the market for any of them, their construction was often strangely beautiful, so Sarah decided to take a closer look. No harm in a little window-shopping, after all.

Curiously sat in the middle of the more robust and, frankly, intimidating looking shops was a humble little table with no visible merchandise, but an elegantly penned sign that advertised great products and services nonetheless. A very well-kept glomera sat behind it, ash-gray bark skin decorated in sparkling jewelry and pink leaf hair done up in a loose layered braid. She looked up from her data pad’s screen and greeted Sarah warmly. Upon being asked about what she sold, she gestured over her shoulder.

“It’s all inside my stock tent,” said the alien. “I’d rather it not sit out where just anyone can touch it. Bad for the quality, you see.”

“And what might your stock be?”

The glomera assessed Sarah and leaned forward on her elbows. “I sell high quality items for personal pleasure,” she said in a honey-sweet tone. Her hands, etched with designs not part of her natural wood grain patterning, laced together under her chin. “In need of something to help satisfy your more carnal desires?”

Sarah blushed and stuttered out: “What?”

“Oh, no need to be shy with me!” Her giggle was high and tinkly. “I know all about humans and their fascinating escapades. You’d love what I have for sale! Please, come take a look.”

“All about humans – what do you mean?”

“Only that you’re one of the most proliferate species in the galaxy, of course. You’re really very good at it. Our folk could stand to be more like you.”

What a strange compliment. “Thank you, I think,” said Sarah. She shrugged. What could it hurt? “All right, show me.”

Going over goods in an alien sex shop was not on the list of things Sarah ever considered she’d do in her lifetime, but damn if she wasn’t having fun looking at all the wild designs made to accommodate a number of adventurous species of all body shapes and sizes.

The glomera introduced herself as Eudi once the curtains parted and she led Sarah inside. “I design these more specifically with those of the female persuasion in mind, but I do carry some for couple activities,” she said. “Have you got a mate?”

A flash of the Doctor’s face crossed Sarah’s mind immediately. “Er, not presently. I might… I might fancy someone, though. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about some alien’s dating troubles.”

“I hear about them all the time! You wouldn’t be the first to vent her frustrations to me.” Eudi flapped her hand loosely. “It’s hardly a bother. Besides, I know your pain. Dealing with males is always such a tricky game, isn’t it?” she sighed, spreading her arms wide.

_Are we even playing that game?_ Sarah thought.

Part of her – a big part of her, if she were more honest with herself – hoped that maybe there was a little more to the constant hand-holding and gentle, protective touches and the way he said her name so nicely, and the intense look in his piercing, alien stare that he so often laid on her. Things had changed between her and the Doctor since his regeneration, but she hadn’t become fully aware of just how much until recently. Where his affection had previously felt like that of a prickly but well-meaning grandfather or eccentric uncle, this time, well, it was… different. 

She was suddenly very aware of just how long it’d been since she’d had time to herself. _Really_ had time to herself. Completely private, quiet, alone time. Her stomach fluttered and her cheeks warmed. Steeled by her realization, Sarah took a quick breath and fixed Eudi with a determined look. “What do you have that’s discreet? Something small, perhaps. Quiet, too.”

“I’ve got just the thing right over here...”

-

A short time later, Sarah sat at one of the tables nearer to the food stalls, flipping through a technical manual Eudi had given to her along with her purchase. The covers were solid black, unrevealing to passers-by. One would have to look over her shoulder to ascertain what she was reading about.

“Looks as though not much has changed in the vibrator department of the future,” she said to herself. Suddenly she wondered just how many species out there really were like humans when it came to her bits; maybe the clitoris was a much more common evolutionary end than she thought. A giggle forced its way out of her mouth and she did her best to keep the volume low as she read on.

“A real page-turner, is it?”

Sarah nearly leapt out of her skin at the Doctor’s voice, slapping the manual shut and jamming it into the modest opaque bag from the shop. “You!” she yelped, then swiped at his arm. “Don’t _scare_ me, you brute– Oh, Doctor! What on earth happened to your shirt?”

A huge stretch of burnt, ragged fabric lay in tatters across the Doctor’s chest instead of the pressed waistcoat he normally wore. Something had eaten away at the fibers of both it and his button-up underneath, exposing a large portion of his flesh and revealing irritated red splotches.

“Pay it no mind. There was a malfunction of one of the devices on display in the dome, but I neutralized it before the old biomatter recycler could eat anything else.”

“Eat? What did you tamper with, a robotic goat?”

“’Eat’ in the sense that acid does.”

That explained the burns.

“What were you doing with acid?!”

“As I said, it was a biomatter recycler. A very old one, easily one of the last century’s earlier models. Any organic materials thrown into its reservoir get broken down into its base elements and recycled for future use. Dead useful for those who can’t afford newer processors, if a bit dangerous.”

“I’ll say. I can’t let you out of my sight for twenty minutes without you finding a way to nearly inflict grievous bodily harm on yourself.”

The Doctor didn’t refute that, only beamed at her as he joined her on the seat. He nudged her shoulder and leaned forward on his forearms. “Obviously you found something to your taste.”

Hoping against all hope that her face wasn’t giving away too much, she nodded. “Looks like you did, too.”

“As it so happens, there were a few spare pieces that will serve the same purpose just as well, if with a bit more of a fuss involved. No matter, I can make it work.” He puffed up and opened his mouth to continue, then focused on something a ways off on the other end of the open seating area. When he didn’t say anything else for at least half a minute, Sarah tapped the back of his hand. He lifted it and pointed across the length of the seating area. “Sarah, over there. Do you see?”

Following his line of sight landed her on the tapered face of a lanky, sandy-colored alien. A battered rattan hat sat atop her head, through which poked two short feathery appendages that reminded Sarah of a fluffy insect. Bright white dots – tattoos, or freckles? – sat under her eyes and seemed to glow in the shadow of that hat’s brim. Around her at her table was an assortment of parts and other items, one of which looked remarkably like the coil the Doctor had been after.

Without another word they rose from their place and approached the alien’s table. She watched them, silent, and nodded to the vacant long seat in front of her, not blinking once as they settled into place.

“Afternoon,” she finally said, polite but clipped. Sarah noticed she had no money around her neck, nor anywhere else on her person. Was she hiding it?

“You’ve quite a varied catalogue,” said the Doctor. “Tell me, that coil drive there – it’s not a true Volkan product, is it? Remarkably close knock-off, nearly had me fooled for a moment–” (Sarah bit back a smile at his obvious lie.) “– but perhaps you’d know where to locate one of genuine make? There was a coil for sale here today, but I regrettably missed my window of opportunity.”

“Ooh, that’s tough, innit?” The alien moved from her reclined position. “Sadly, no, I don’t know where you can get your hands on any real Volkan metal work. Rare as ruby stardust around here, usually third-hand goods.” Her fingers, long and willowy, tapped the knockoff drive. “Still yours if you’ve got something good for it, though.”

“I’ve already found a suitable substitute, thank you, but you might have some other interesting thing waiting in your bag of tricks.” The Doctor fixed his eyes on hers. Neither of them blinked. “You’re a wind-trader, aren’t you?”

The alien smiled with her fuzzy mouthparts. “As much as you’re not human.”

Sarah turned her head. “You can tell?”

"Sure." The feathery appendages stirred slightly. “You smell different.”

“You’ll find that several species can tell the difference between us, Sarah. Appearances aren’t everything.” His gaze lifted to the alien’s fluffy antennae as they wiggled and lay back against the rattan.

“Mighty helpful, they are,” the alien admitted. She sat up straight and sniffed. “Anyway, it’s just as well you didn’t take the one in that tech dome.”

“And why would that be?”

“S’a fake, just like this one.”

The Doctor thumped the table with his fist. “I had my suspicions. It was too good to be true to find anything like it this far from their home system. Let’s hope the gentleman who purchased it doesn’t push it too hard. He might wind up with a blown drive casing instead.”

“Hold on,” Sarah interrupted, “can we back up for those uninitiated? What’s a wind-trader?”

“A collector,” the Doctor continued. “It’s a bit of an outdated term as she and others like her are well acquainted with space travel, but the moniker stuck around. It wasn’t just the coil knockoff that got my attention, Sarah.”

“All right, so what is it you collect?”

“Rare goods that even these folks don’t usually have for sale,” said the alien. “Not that any of mine are for sale, either. They only go to the right people. You get me? I’ll trade for necessities, sure, but if I’m not starving or stranded, it could be anything else.”

“Like what?”

“Typically a good story, or so the tales go.” The Doctor rested his chin on his palm. “Or something of equal value that she hasn’t been able to get her hands on.”

She nodded. “And you’ve got a look like you have a few good ones under your belt.”

The Doctor practically lit up. And so he regaled the alien bug with a recount of their most recent encounter, that of their meeting with Sutekh.

Chills crawled up Sarah’s back as the Doctor spared no detail, describing the awesome power of the ancient being. Though he spoke about it with his usual levity now, and had kept mum on exactly what happened to him in the bowels of the pyramid when face-to-face with the ‘god,’ Sarah saw it in his eyes after they left: he was severely rattled, right down to his core. He’d even flinched away from her once or twice before remembering that he was safe in the TARDIS and not stuck with Sutekh’s psychic claws burrowed into his mind. Finally when she’d taken his hand, it trembled in her grasp, and while the Doctor had assured her he was fine, she wrapped him in her arms regardless, just as glad to have him back alive. His stunt with Sutekh’s servant had been terrifying and her despair, however short-lived, contributed in no small part toward Sarah’s belated understanding of her new feelings.

What a place to have an epiphany.

“I thought gods were supposed to be noble, or whatever,” said the alien, unnerved. 

“They weren’t gods, though they wielded the appropriate power. And consider the rest of the Osirans: they did act to remove Sutekh from their numbers, after all. Every species, no matter how noble and powerful they may see themselves, has their bad eggs, even if it’s only from their own perspective,” said the Doctor. “I should know.”

“Sutekh was the worst of their lot,” said Sarah. “He didn’t think he could be outsmarted, but the Doctor was two steps ahead of him.” She bumped her hip against his. “We did have a few close calls, but others weren’t so lucky. I do wish we could’ve done something for Scarman…”

“Indeed, but we must look at the big picture. The Earth – and the galaxy – are safe from his idea of ‘good,’ and have been for some time by this present. And will be forever.”

The wind-trader watched them in silence for nearly a full minute as they talked to each other about their ordeal, then turned to her large bag at her side. She rummaged in the pockets for a bit, then plucked a large twine necklace of some kind from its depths.

Along the string were hammered silver coins, warm in color, spaced with enormous predators’ teeth. It frayed very little despite its apparent age, and the teeth were in remarkable condition aside from some faint yellowing at the base. A sizable glittering stone hung in its center weave, cut with an incongruously precise pattern compared to the rough-hewn nature of the rest of the piece.

“This is an artifact from Pardos IV,” she said, turning it in her hand.

“You’re either very brave or very stupid to have attempted that trip, or both,” the Doctor commented, eyeing the jewelry. “The asteroid belts of the Pardos system are notorious for dashing ships to pieces before their crews know what’s coming for them, and especially near IV! So close to the most active belt.”

“What’s so dangerous about it?” asked Sarah.

“The system has a gas giant much like your Jupiter that’s well known for slinging rocks every which-way at the slightest provocation. Two belts of asteroids give it plenty of firepower with which to destroy vessels unaware.” The Doctor raised his gaze skyward for a moment, then back to Sarah. “On the other hand, it produces spectacular meteor showers to be viewed from the surface of any of the terrestrial planets.”

“I got a few bruises, but here I am.” The wind-trader shrugged, smug. “You won’t find one of these even if you sifted through the rest of the galaxy for the rest of your life. Or ever again. Nobody seems to come back from there anymore.” Her bright eyes stared at the necklace and Sarah swore she saw something like fear in the alien’s gaze.

She held it out for the Doctor and he opened his palm to accept the trinket.

“It’s the rarest thing in my collection and you seem like you appreciate the unique. And if you decide you don’t want to keep it, well, it’s probably worth a fortune to the right buyer if you’re willing to hunt them down.”

The Doctor examined the necklace before slipping it into his cavernous pockets. “I don’t find myself wanting for material wealth, so I think it’ll find a place somewhere in the TARDIS. If she’s inclined to keep it on display, that is; she can be a finicky thing.”

The wind-trader raised an eyebrow.

“Never mind. I do appreciate your generosity.”

“And you, your time.” She tilted her hat at him, and he copied the gesture back at her. “It’s a shame I don’t have any marvelous shirts to trade you instead, but as you can see,” she gestured to her own bare chest under her shawl with a laugh, “I don’t have much in the way of need for them myself.”

The Doctor glanced down at himself, seeming to only just now remember that his chest was exposed. “Ah! Yes, perhaps I should get that fixed. Where was that fellow with the braxi silk?”

-

Sarah sat across from the red-crested owner of the silk stall, holding the Doctor’s gray coat in her arms. She crossed her ankle over her knee and bounced her leg, excited to see what their selection looked like. The Doctor was currently obscured from view by a large silk screen, his scarf draped over the top. Intricate patterns were dyed on the screen’s surface.

The owner examined the tattered remains of the Doctor’s clothes on his worktable. “There’s not much I can do for these, but if you’d like to give me the material I can deduct a little of your cost on the silk. Scraps are always useful, especially when I’m practicing new stitches. I can’t afford to waste silk on every experimental thought that jumps into my head.”

“What about it, Doctor?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, that’s fine. They’re no good to me in that shape, are they?”

His scarf slipped down from its perch and Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes. Surely he wasn’t going to wear it around his neck even with the silk shirt? No, of course he was going to. She shouldn’t have expected anything else. 

“Come on out, let’s see it!” she said. But when he did, she could have swallowed her tongue.

What she gave the Doctor to wear was a two-piece set: a simple undershirt and a sheer black shirt to go over the top. He loped out from behind the screen with only the sheer on, the undershirt tucked into the crook of his arm. His scarf was wrapped three times snugly around his waist and tied off like a sash. It still trailed comically along the floor, as usual.

“Isn’t he supposed to wear _both_?” she squeaked to the owner.

“Not necessarily! The silk is very gentle on skin. Undershirts are mostly for the wearer’s comfort if they need another layer for the wind.”

Sarah bit her lip and put one hand to her face as the Doctor eyed his reflection in the body-length mirror.

“Seems your instincts were right. It suits me quite well, don’t you think Sarah?”

“Yes,” she blurted.

It occurred to her that she’d never seen this much of his skin before. Even at UNIT, it was the medical personnel led by Harry Sullivan that did all of his… undressing. Even if he wasn’t technically naked or even half-dressed at the moment, the sheer hid absolutely nothing. She saw every detail of his wiry torso: the light dip of his collarbone where the low V-cut of the shirt seemed to attack her personally; the light dusting of dark and curly chest hair; and the gentle slope below his ribs when he raised his arms above his head. The height of his scarf-sash and trouser waistline blocked anything further, but Sarah’s imagination began to run away from her despite her best attempts at clawing it back into place.

Oh, good grief, she was ogling him like a horny school girl!

Grateful for a reason to rip her eyes away from him, she counted out the coins necessary for the purchase and handed them over to the weaver. He nodded graciously and thanked her for their business and gave her a card with instructions on how to wash the silk. The Doctor picked it up instead and took his coat back from Sarah in one motion. 

“Shall we?” he said cheerfully, and Sarah was made very aware of the fact that she normally stood about chest-height next to him. _Oh, no._

She cleared her throat. “Yes, let’s.”

Satisfied, the Doctor placed his hat back on his head and slung an arm around her shoulders. His cool skin pressed against her warmth through the sheer and sent a shiver up her arms. _Oh, no, no._

Sarah concentrated very hard on the dirt as they left the tent.

-

The rest of the market visit had been near unbearable. Fortunately the Doctor appeared unaware of just how much of an effect he was having on Sarah, but that also meant he altered none of his behavior and therefore made her problem even worse. Their regular closeness, his lingering stares, their playful exchanges – it was all made a degree of uncomfortable as Sarah tried her best not to let her thoughts run rampant.

She _failed_ , but still. Her effort should have been commended.

Part of her felt an intense guilt. What right did she have, eyeing him up like he were a fine cut of meat and she, a hungry wolf? He was an alien! There was almost zero chance he would appreciate or even humor her lustful thoughts and an even smaller chance he reciprocated any of them. Could he even? Did Time Lords even do much in the way of sexual activity? Sarah couldn’t think of an instance that would have let him show such behavior in the first place, but that wasn’t necessarily indicative of a lack of feeling. Lots of people were extremely private about their personal lives, especially where intimacy was concerned. Plus, there was a possibility that he would think of her as a disgusting deviant for being attracted to someone outside of her own species. He might even eject her from the TARDIS for such a thing, and, for as much trouble as it often was to travel with him, she wanted nothing less.

The Doctor, for all his missteps at the beginning of their friendship – a lifetime ago – had charm to spare. It was so easy to get caught up in it. 

All through the immediate hours following their return to the TARDIS, Sarah got the distinct feeling of the ship laughing at her. Not maliciously; she and the TARDIS got along well, and she was very fond of the baffling machine. It felt more like teasing between friends, or even a slightly haughty ‘I told you so’ from an older sibling, but Sarah wasn’t in the mood to be teased – not like that, anyway. And he still hadn’t taken off that bloody shirt! She wanted to rip it off of him and demand he march to the wardrobe and put something else on, but that would involve a very uncomfortable conversation she wasn’t ready to have with the Doctor.

Teasing aside, Sarah was grateful for the soft lighting the TARDIS provided now. She was exhausted and a touch sunburnt, and now that she was freshly showered she had a chance to enjoy some quiet. ‘Peace’ was out of the question because the Doctor was still running through her head at 90mph and wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

Atop her nightstand, the shop bag tempted her. Should she? It was her private space and she could do whatever she wanted, and she wasn’t unfamiliar with herself. Sarah was unashamed of her body and sexual desires in a general sense, but it was the idea of having to look him in the eyes later, knowing she’d made him the star of her fantasy, that gave her pause.

She reached for the bag.

The bean-shaped device fit in the palm of her hand but buzzed with a powerful motor and was whisper quiet. A far cry from the wall-powered and cumbersome wand she was more familiar with. Not that that was a poor choice or unsatisfying; it was very much the opposite. But the thought of having the thing aboard the TARDIS and being potentially discovered was mortifying. As what she was about to do was effectively tossing off in someone else’s – living, very sentient and very aware – house, she cleared her throat and picked a spot on the wall to focus on while she addressed the ship.

“Are you fine with this?” she ventured. Talking directly to the TARDIS sometimes made her feel a bit foolish, but she got an answer when it was important. Most of the time. If her activity was forbidden, the TARDIS would let her know in no short order.

Instead of the expected rejection, a warm and almost fuzzy feeling encompassed the room and Sarah felt at ease. She deserved a little TLC and relaxation, and well, if the Doctor made an appearance in her mind’s eye, then that would just have to be too bad, wouldn’t it?

-

A similar comforting warmth followed the Doctor from the kitchen – he’d just been about making himself some tea. He found the wafers were gone again; Sarah must have squirreled them away somewhere – to the door of the library. He smiled and trailed his hand over the smooth wall of the ship, ending contact with a gentle pat. The door opened before him and he bee-lined for the high-backed chair near the fireplace which blazed to life the moment he touched the worn leather and crushed velvet. He set his hat on the corner and settled in, quick to put his feet up on a squashed but reliable ottoman.

He’d picked up a few more things at the market, among them the battered hardcover in his hands. A first edition from a long-dead Ionian author, it was both very rare and often overlooked by most as just another dust magnet on a shelf. The jacket had long since been lost to time, but for its age it was still in fine shape, for which the Doctor was grateful. Some experienced haggling had been required to obtain it as the owner clearly understood what he possessed, but the Doctor wasn’t easily swayed when he was focused on his goal. Eventually the owner relented and parted with the item, happy to accept the Doctor’s previously hidden platinum coins in exchange. 

There were a staggering many volumes in the Doctor’s collection. All sorts found their ways here, added slowly, one by one, to the rows of shelves for him to browse whenever he liked: rare editions like this one; books that hadn’t been released yet (at least, relative to the current time they were lollygagging in); out of print copies with corrected typos or old dedications; they spanned all the genres he could get his hands on, and he was happy to share the room with those he knew would appreciate it.

Sarah had been taken with the size of the place alone when he first introduced her, her eyes going wide and sparkling when she truly grasped just how much was available. The Doctor imagined the look of awestruck joy was much like what she must have looked like as a girl and chuckled to himself. A few books were still missing from their places, kept in Sarah’s room awaiting her eager mind.

A mischievous ripple from the TARDIS interrupted his recollection and pulled his attention away from the page.

“And what has you in such a mood?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. Feelings of anticipation followed, then dimmed as she resumed her silent processes. The Doctor shot a confused raise of his brow to the arched ceiling, though a smile graced his lips. The TARDIS was a curious creature and he loved her dearly. At this mental admission, the TARDIS hummed a mutual reply, then gave him the impression that she was standing back and parting a curtain to reveal something hidden behind it.

“Now what are you –”

_Oh, DOCTOR!_

The Doctor didn’t get to finish his sentence, for a surge of pure ecstasy all but clubbed him over the head and stunned him into uncharacteristic silence. Mouth hanging open, he put a hand to his chest and felt his hearts beat just a little bit faster. His face felt warmer. Was he blushing? The blast of passionate emotion engulfed his expansive mind for only a moment, but it was more than enough to catch him off guard, and somewhere, off in her ever-present consciousness, the TARDIS was grinning impishly.

Identifying the source of the intense projection was, of course, trivial. He recognized Sarah’s mental thumbprint anywhere. It was as clear as crystal that her projection, in addition to being absolutely accidental, was equal parts unapologetically lustful and utterly sincere. What was difficult was parsing why it had come from her in the first place.

He shut the book in his lap and set it down on the side table. The Doctor was neither visually impaired nor deficient in any of his other marvelous senses, so he was fully aware that Sarah Jane was a lovely young woman – a lovely, _very human_ young woman with roiling, neon-lights-flashing pheromones that said more than enough about what she was feeling whether she wanted them to or not and would likely be quite embarrassed about if he ever told her such a thing. He didn’t, or rather couldn’t, miss any of it even if he’d tried. By smell alone he’d been treated to the heady concoction of _want, want, want_ all the rest of the afternoon, emanating from her with all the subtlety of colliding headlong with a stone wall.

Naturally, he’d come to expect a degree of this behavior from any of his acquaintances as humans had a tendency to be quite a randy lot of mammals on average, but in his experience they kept it between themselves and mostly out of sight.

Despite his lack of personal – physical – involvement with them, humans always captivated him. He admired many things about their species and abhorred plenty others. So often he’d found delightful and reliable friendship, and just as often found the worst of the world waiting to leave its mark on history. How frustrating it was to be yanked about by their whims – and yet he loved them. Too much, if one asked the right Time Lord, but the only Time Lord whose opinion truly mattered on the subject was his own, and damn if he was going to let one of his stuffy, xenophobic peers pathologize his love for humanity.

Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, he set his chin in his hand and tapped his cheek with his fingertips, then turned his head to cover his grinning mouth with his knuckles. He hadn’t expected Sarah – or any human, really – to have this kind of attraction toward him, but he wasn’t displeased with his discovery. Far from it; lingering on the idea kept his hearts at their brisk new pace. Still, it raised a new question, as it’d been some time since he, whether he realized it or not, desired this sort of companionship: when had he come to feel this way about Sarah? For it to have gone unacknowledged for so long… well, it must have been stewing in his head for ages by now.

Perhaps he should talk to Sarah about this sooner than later.

-

Sarah lay back against her pillows and puffed air up into her bangs. Finally her tension was gone, replaced by a pleasant tingle that ran all the way down to the soles of her feet. The alien vibrator sat in a divot on the comforter near her hand, still faintly buzzing and flashing its power light at her. Expensive though it may have been, it was absolutely worth every coin and Sarah planned on making use of it as consistently as she could manage. She hadn’t come like that in a long time and it already outclassed anything her previous purchases had ever managed for her – but not on its own. Her ideas about the Doctor had played a pretty important part in that. 

She set an arm above her head and stared at the ceiling. There were plenty of hours left for her to shower and settle in and think about how she was going to deal with sharing the table with the Doctor in the morning without choking on her food. One way or another she’d manage. Keeping her cool when it mattered was a learned skill of hers.

Smiling and pursing her lips, she went over her little fantasy again. For lack of more comprehensive knowledge on Time Lord anatomy and therefore whatever the Doctor had between his legs, she’d focused on his hands. Not that that was necessarily a poor second choice, as they were very nice hands with long, lovely fingers. Watching him handle all sorts of delicate equipment with careful – and sometimes not so careful – movements, she sometimes wondered just what else he might be capable of, and the answer was ‘plenty,’ her imagination decided. No reason he wouldn’t be.

Funnily enough the most difficult thing to keep in mind was his significantly lower body temperature. Sarah couldn’t be blamed for slipping in her fantasy’s consistency. It was the first time she ever thought about an alien! She had a certain amount of wiggle room when it came to accuracy.

Her silent enjoyment came to a noisy halt when a playful _knock knock-a knock knock!_ rattled her door. Gasping, she shut off the toy and buried it in the comforter as fast as she could, hoping he hadn’t heard it.

“Doctor?” she stammered.

“Expecting someone else?” There was amusement in his voice. Oh, no, if he was in a teasing mood... “May I come in?”

Sarah’s eyes could have popped out of her head. She scuttled to her bathroom and hastily ran a brush through her hair, lamenting the obvious red flush in her cheeks. Oh, why didn’t he mind his own business just this one time? Not even five minutes! Left with no other option, she put her dressing gown back on and walked to the door. When she opened it, her stomach simultaneously fluttered and twisted at the Doctor’s gentle expression, which settled on her heavily. 

“Yes?”

“You look a bit out of breath,” he said.

_Twit._ “I am a little, obviously.”

The Doctor peered past her into the bedroom as if looking for something. “Have you been running laps?”

“That’s me, keeping up my health for the next time I have to pelt down a hallway from whatever creature wants to turn me inside out.” She held her arms out wide, then laughed through her nose. “No, I was just, er, relaxing.”

He had the look of someone who desperately wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to start. A sense of dread formed a small stone in Sarah’s gut.

“It seems to have worked. You look very… sated.”

Now that wasn’t _fair_. She worried her lip.

The Doctor hummed in thought for a moment and seemed to make a decision on what to say. “You’ve quite the vivid imagination. I heard you clear to the library.”

“What do you mean you heard me?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. Venturing forth carefully, she winced. “How could you have? I wasn’t that loud, was I? The library’s nowhere near my bedroom! Usually...”

“Projecting, Sarah.” The Doctor spoke softly now, no longer teasing. He tapped his temple. “It’s difficult to ignore something felt so passionately. I dare say it made me blush.”

“Oh, my god." If only a meteorite could have struck her down right then.

“Have you been hypothesizing about relations with another species?”

“Oh, Doctor.” His eyebrows, faint as they were, raised at her words. How much had he heard? How much had he seen? “I promise you I didn’t know. I had no idea! I was only trying to– what I mean is, I’m sorry you had to see any of that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

To her surprise he appeared genuinely baffled. “Uncomfortable? No, you could never. Not like that.”

“What?” Sarah squinted at him. “Then why are you here? Aren’t you here to tell me off, to- to put your foot down on silly human habits aboard the TARDIS?”

“I am not.” The Doctor took a breath and put his hands in his pockets, then stepped over the threshold. Sarah automatically walked backwards to accommodate him, never once breaking eye contact. Something was brewing behind those eyes, but just what, she couldn’t yet tell. “Besides that, if the TARDIS objected to anything happening she would have given you the heave-ho long before I got here.”

“Then what, Doctor?” Sarah floundered, unprepared for how casually this exchange was going.

He went on like she hadn’t spoken at all. “I do, however, feel it’s important to follow through with a good line of inquiry. A fascinating hypothesis can’t just be left dangling. That is...” A remarkably tender expression appeared on the Doctor’s face. He was being serious now, but in a way she’d never seen before. Heat furiously returned to Sarah’s cheeks and the color must have reached the tips of her ears. “If that’s what you’d like.” He fell silent for a long few moments, then spoke so softly it was barely above a whisper: “Fantasies needn’t always come true.” 

This _had_ to be something she dreamed up. She must have fallen asleep after her climax and sunk straight into a naughty dream because there was no way the Doctor was right here in front of her, propositioning her to take part in experimental interspecies sex. Or maybe he was, and it was all just to satisfy his own detached, scientific alien curiosity. He had called it a hypothesis.

“Surely you’re not saying what I think you are?” she asked, finding her voice. “Is it even possible?”

“Shall we add that to our list of questions?”

Her mouth fell open. A few seconds passed before she blinked and managed a reply: “You’re serious.”

“Oh, deadly.” He grinned broadly. “But if you’d rather not...”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean- argh!” Sarah held the sides of her head and turned away from him, her mind spinning. When she glanced over her shoulder, she swore the Doctor almost looked hurt as he stood there with his darling eyes fixed on her and his mouth slightly open, waiting to speak.

“Oh, don’t look at me that way, I can’t stand it,” she muttered. “But I’m confused, Doctor. Are you sure _you_ want to?”

Carefully he approached and stood behind her, though he waited for some time before he made contact. He placed a hand on her shoulder and nudged her, silently asking that she turn to look at him, and she placed her own hand atop his. When she did turn, she found his usual sweetness was waiting for her.

“Yes, Sarah. I would be delighted. Truly.”

One word banged around in her head as she tried to process his answer. Why? Yes, indeed, why? Why was she questioning the most unbelievable opportunity she’d been given since traveling with him? It should have felt like a wish come true, but now that it presented itself, she was almost suspicious.

“I didn’t think...” she began again, then cut herself off. The Doctor’s hand squeezed her shoulder.

“Think what?” he asked.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in that sort of thing. Aren’t there rules or some such about…” She had to pick her words carefully. “Fraternizing with other species?”

“As a matter of fact, there are. In a sense, anyway.”

“What? And here you are, asking me if I want to shag!?”

“Hold on, hold on! No need to get so riled up, but if you’re referring to what the Time Lords would think of such a thing regardless, well...” He eyed the floor.

Sarah gripped his hand. “I take it they wouldn’t be thrilled.”

“No. They wouldn’t.” The Doctor reached out with his other hand and patted Sarah’s head, then caressed her hair. The gesture sent pleasurable shivers crawling up her arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Their opinions of other species are low enough without adding intimate physicality into the mixture. They took a rather cruel pleasure in referring to my favoritism as a psychological disorder the last time it came up.”

“Have you shown interest like this before?” If he was showing true interest, and wasn’t just in it for a laugh. “In humans, not just in general.”

The Doctor shook his head, paused, then nodded. “I’ve been close to others in previous lives, yes. Nothing ever quite came of it, though I did sometimes wonder what may have.” A faraway look came over him but was gone in a flash. “But I’ve come to find that you’re something of a unique case even among old friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve left an unusually strong impression on me and I, well, I find myself very fond of you.”

He was going with ‘fond,’ was he? Sarah could work with that. She smiled. “Then you’ll be happy to know that I’m very fond of you, too.”

His hand stroking her hair stilled and held the side of her face. Against the heat of her cheek his fingers felt all the more chilly, but she welcomed it. It was comforting. Shutting her eyes, she breathed deep and smelled that oddly crisp scent that accompanied the Doctor wherever he went and wondered if it was something unique to Time Lords as a whole, or just him.

“Just so we’re clear,” she said, “we’re on the same page about fancying each other? And it isn’t just about satisfying some alien curiosity of yours?”

“My alien curiosity doesn’t negate any feelings I have, Sarah.”

“Doctor,” Sarah warned gently. Another thought crossed her mind. “And I want to know, even considering this, can you tell me that it isn’t because of… because of a-”

“Fetish?” he offered.

Sarah opened her eyes and gave him an apologetic look, not wanting to accuse him of anything more than his peers already had done. The resentment in his words was obvious.

“Of course we’re on the same page,” the Doctor went on. “If you’re asking whether my fondness for you is only because you’re human, I can assure you that the answer is ‘no.’”

“But it is part of it, isn’t it? Just a little?”

His teasing grin returned, a bit softer than before, but he said nothing.

“Well, then I’m just as bad, aren’t I? You’d be the novelty from my perspective, as much as I am to you.”

“A novelty!” The Doctor snorted, then gained an odd, happily perplexed look as he studied her, like he felt a great relief but also thought he should feel guilty about that relief. "I didn’t think we’d end up having this particular trait in common.”

“It’s more fun to indulge with someone who has the same taste, and we both know you have _excellent_ taste.”

That made him laugh. Sarah’s smile became beaming.

“I certainly do. Although… I feel we should wait for another time.” He sighed and dropped both hands to her upper arms. “I’d only be overstimulating you at this point and that’s no good for any proper experiment. We need a fresh start for more accurate results.”

As disappointing as that was to hear, Sarah had to admit that he had a point. She’d already taken care of herself for the evening and was getting sleepy, and as much as she would’ve liked to begin exploration of this new facet of their friendship, there would always be more time. Still, his light tone made her chuff.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said. “I do need to get some rest. And you do, too.”

“Funny, I seem to recall doing exactly that before you broadcast your erotic daydream all over the TARDIS.”

She shoved at his chest playfully. “Oh, stop it. I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Yes, yes, I know, the blame doesn’t lie with you,” he replied, smiling wider. If anyone was at fault, it was either he himself or the TARDIS, being the only telepathic entities in her immediate vicinity. After a second’s hesitation, he pressed his cool lips to her forehead and Sarah was unable to help the gasp that slipped out. “Sleep, Sarah Jane. We’ll resume this talk when you wake.”

Sarah didn’t want him to leave just yet, but wasn’t certain how to carry on the conversation if he did. The temptation to kiss him instead of talking as intended was rising, and if he did stay, she wouldn’t get a wink of the sleep she needed. So she let him go. He closed the door behind him with a gentle click, and Sarah leaned close to listen to the fading sound of his shoes on the grating. Once she was sure he was out of earshot, she leaned against the door and slid down to the floor, hand over her mouth. 

-

‘Morning’ arrived quickly, but Sarah had managed a decent number of sleep hours regardless. Memory of any dreams she may have had was fuzzy and dim, so she could only hope that she didn’t accidentally send more private thoughts out into the halls of the ship. If she had any luck whatsoever the TARDIS would help her out, but as she’d thought about it while waiting to drift off to sleep, she began to suspect that the alien ship might have had something to do with what transpired.

“You’re a sneaky thing, aren’t you?” she said as she touched the TARDIS’ wall. “I guess I should be more careful about what I, er, think too loudly.”

She got no response. Nothing was better than a negative one, so she moved on to the kitchen to take care of her building hunger.

It was empty, both to her relief and disappointment. Oh, well. She’d get a chance to put together a proper breakfast without distraction now, and she was looking forward to trying the eggs they’d picked up at another corner of the market. The Doctor had assured her that they were perfectly safe for her to eat, but she’d still shown some initial hesitation based on their very odd appearance. She thought they resembled a dragonfruit more than an egg.

A single egg was plenty, having approximately the same volume as two chicken eggs. Its yolk was an unsettling blue rather than a pretty yellow-orange, but as its gray-tinged whites started cooking in the buttery pan, it smelled just as appetizing and her worries subsided. It would go well with some toast and sliced fruit and maybe some of the jam she saw the Doctor hide away in the corner of the kitchen. He might be a little tetchy when he discovered she’d taken some of his personal foodstuffs, but if he really wanted to keep it from her he should have picked a different hidey-hole.

One delicious plate later, Sarah sat at the table with a fresh cup of tea and her unfinished toast, the jam not having been the best choice after all. It wasn’t terrible, but the Doctor’s relentless taste for sweet things sometimes overwhelmed her. She leaned back in the chair and sighed, pleasantly full and ready to enjoy the humming quiet, but before she could finish her thought the silence was broken by the rich tones of the Doctor’s voice as he approached from down the hall.

He seemed to be talking to the TARDIS, as he often did, though she noted she couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying. As she listened it became obvious that whatever he was speaking was not a language from Earth, and it was… pretty. There were strange dips and rises in the vowel-heavy words, though it was a bit hard to tell when they ended and began as it was all very smooth. Overall, quite a nice set of sounds for one of the loveliest voices Sarah ever had the pleasure of listening to.

The Doctor ended his one-sided talk with a cute little whistle, then joined Sarah at the table. His eyes brightened when he took in the evidence of her breakfast choices.

“Ah, you see?” he said. “I told you the eggs were good.”

“I think I’ve become a fan. The jam, not so much.” She took another sip from her mug. “What was that you were speaking?”

“Hm?” The Doctor leaned across the table and helped himself to the rest of her toast, taking her dismissal of the jam as permission to pilfer.

“Just now in the hallway. I didn’t recognize it.”

“Ah, that.” He added more of the sugary stuff to the bread and took a bite. “Old High Gallifreyan,” he answered once he swallowed.

“You sounded like you were singing.”

The Doctor fully snapped his attention to her, brows knitted together. He even stopped chewing. “I’ve heard it described as lilting, even musical in the past, but outright singing? Me? Don’t be absurd.”

“Like it would be at all outlandish to say you look like a man who enjoys a good stage production!”

“I didn’t say that, but don’t expect me to burst into a recitation of the Pirates of Penzance at the drop of a hat.” He wagged the bread at her. “Now will you give me a moment to finish this? I might end up choking, and then how would you feel?”

Sarah snorted into her tea and breakfast resumed. The Doctor left the table to assemble his own plate with more of that awful jam and bread, accompanied by two of the enormous eggs as well as thin strips of the grayish meat that Sarah refused to touch stashed in the back of the refrigerator. He tried to explain where it came from, and while she was sure it was just as delicious as he insisted, the color was so horribly off-putting that she couldn’t get past it.

As the food sizzled in the cast-iron, a slightly awkward lull descended upon them.

“Sarah,” the Doctor began, “about what we discussed last night.”

Her stomach wanted to drop out. Was he going to go back on what he said and announce that their loosely laid plans weren’t such a good idea after all? The awful possibility that it had all been an impulse offer influenced by her telepathic projection slithered its way into her brain and she swallowed thickly, her throat suddenly dry despite her tea.

“Is this where you tell me you’ve changed your mind?” she asked, staring past him to the door leading into the hallway.

The scrape of the spatula stopped as the Doctor turned to observe her. “Why, have you?”

“No!” she almost shouted, then jammed her lips shut, abashed. “I mean, no. I’ll try not to seem overeager.” Sarah ducked her head and looked at him through her lashes in time to see him wink.

“Before we get on with it, there are a few concerns to address. Questions I’m sure you have that absolutely must be answered.” 

By the time he rejoined her at the table, he had two plates piled high, having added some of the sliced fruit Sarah left on the counter as well as a strange, veiny looking vegetable and an assortment of nuts from the pantry.

“Yes,” she said, “let’s start with ‘where on earth do you manage to fit all that food?’”

“A Time Lord requires tremendous amounts of calories to keep himself in top shape,” he said casually, absolutely slathering butter on all the toast slices. “Especially the brain. Throw in the sheer amount of running we find ourselves doing, and you have yourself a high mark that needs to be reached every day, one way or another.”

“Next you’ll tell me that that’s why you’re constantly sucking down sugar.”

“Yes, actually. Easy to burn and delicious to take in.” He emphasized his point by taking a spoonful of the jam directly from the jar, much to Sarah’s disgust. When he placed the spoon back into the sugary goop without cleaning it, she squawked in disbelief.

“What _field_ were you raised in, you beast?” she hissed, failing to hide her smile. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be eating the stuff, anyway.”

The Doctor tried not to look too pleased with his own antics as he took a large bite of eggs.

“So, shall I ask you whatever’s on my mind?” At his nod, she went on. “All right then. Questions. Chief among them, I want to know if this is going to be safe for both of us.”

“Yes,” he replied, rock solid in his certainty. “I wouldn’t bring it up at all if it weren’t. Unless you have an undiagnosed allergy to Gallifreyan proteins, there’s nothing to fret over. We can test for that in the infirmary if you’re especially worried.”

“Er, no, not at all. What do you mean by proteins?”

“Semen, Sarah. Over 50% by volume.”

“...right.” She could feel her cheeks warming already, and not from a pleasant fluster. “Next question. I don’t know much about your...” She twirled her hand at the wrist in his direction, then pointed down at his waist. “Private anatomy. Are there any surprises I should be made aware of?”

“I hope you’re not expecting tentacles.”

“Doctor!”

“What would you consider a surprise?”

“I have no idea! You look human on the outside, but I’ve barely only seen you with your shirt off, so how do I know if you’ve even got bits similar to a human bloke?”

“I do, in fact, have a penis.”

“Oh, my god.” Her embarrassed blush worsened. “Please, don’t just say it like that.”

“Would you prefer I call it my ‘knob’?”

“No! Oh, you’re such a child.” Sarah sputter laughed. “A cock is a cock, I suppose, but does it at least look like something I’m used to?”

“I’d say ‘you’ll find out soon enough,’ but that would probably earn ice water in my face at best or an urn at my head at worst.”

Sarah half-heartedly glowered at him with an annoyed smirk. He was having way too much fun at her expense for this early in her day. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Yes, Time Lords possess genitals with reasonable similarities to that of humans on average.” He was barely holding in a grin. “With minor differences of course, but nothing substantial so as to cause alarm.”

“Anything transmissible between us?”

“I shouldn’t think so. Anything that’s evolved to take advantage of my cellular structures would get nothing from yours and vice versa. If that weren’t the case I likely would have died from a measly human disease decades ago.”

“Fair point.” Sarah shifted in her seat and crossed her ankle over her knee. “Do Time Lords only stick with one partner? Er, for their current life, I guess. And it’s got nothing to do with us, but since I’m thinking about it now, do people get married on Gallifrey?”

“Some might be inclined, though my personal experience tells me that sticking around for someone longer than one regeneration has fallen a bit out of fashion.” The Doctor finished off the weird meat and set aside one now empty plate before continuing. “There’s no hard and fast rule when it comes to partnership and several couplings are often done for political reasons more than anything else. It comes across as a bit heartless, but that can be said of many things normal to Time Lords.”

“And… you?” She didn’t like the audible vulnerability in her question and inwardly winced. Still, it was important. “Where do you stand?”

“I don’t find the idea of sharing very appealing.”

“Good,” said Sarah, setting down her mug. She didn’t miss the way his face lit up when she agreed. “Because neither do I.” She leaned across and plucked one of the fruit pieces from the Doctor’s plate before he returned his attention to it. “Turnabout’s fair play, Doctor. Now: do I have to worry about getting pregnant?”

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” His second plate joined the first, leaving only the tin of nuts from the pantry in front of him. “I thought it would be the first thing out of your mouth.”

“But it’s not all just about me, is it? I worry about your well-being, too.” She nibbled the fruit. “Besides, I figured you might already have that sorted with some kind of… I don’t know, advanced alien… something or other.”

The Doctor chuffed. “Ah, yes, the highly advanced alien technique completely unheard of to humans, otherwise known as the ‘pull-out method.’”

Sarah leaned across the table to swat at his arm and he jokingly fended her off with his fork. “Doctor, I’m being serious! For all I knew you could have already had the Gallifreyan equivalent of a vasectomy. Though, with regeneration I don’t know if there’d be much point in getting one, would there be?”

“About as much point as getting other temporary modifications.” He twirled his fork over his fingers like one might with a pen. “Sometimes, they help give one peace of mind, and you’re never sure how long one life is going to last.”

“Do you even need to worry about things like that?”

“Not with how rarely we reproduce, no. But to answer you properly: we’re not biologically compatible. As you said yourself, we only look like we’re cut from the same cloth, and outward appearances aren’t important to the breeding process as the raw genetics. There’s not even a hypothetical chance of hybridization between our species.” 

“Oh.”

“I shudder to think what my fellow Time Lords would have to say about my managing to achieve such a feat at all,” the Doctor mostly said to himself, then studied her for a moment. His expression was difficult to read. “Are you disappointed?”

“Definitely not. It’s a relief, actually.” She smiled shyly. “But now I’m wondering how you can say these things with such a straight face! You’d have to be a doc-” Sarah stopped and drew a deep breath in through her nose.

“Go on, finish your thought,” teased the Doctor.

“I will not,” she grumbled, but her cheer returned shortly. “So the pulp novels and enquirer headlines about aliens looking for human women to mate with had it all wrong, then.”

“’Impregnate,’” he corrected, “not just mate.” Unfortunately for Sarah, the Doctor dropped his voice to a deliciously low tone before speaking next. “You can do a whole lot of mating without the intention of producing anything.”

Holding a gaze with him was a tough task under normal circumstances, made so much more difficult when his laser blue eyes gave her the distinct feeling that he was staring straight into her thoughts and seeing just what his voice had done to her. Sarah broke eye contact first, deciding instead in that moment that the ceiling was utterly captivating. As she stared and her cheeks turned hopelessly pinker, a cool hand reached for hers across the table and gently took hold.

“I don’t mean to put another hold on our little rendezvous,” said the Doctor, “but there is something that needs my attention before we get a bit lost. Keep yourself occupied for a little while, and then we’ll reconvene.”

Sarah squeezed his hand in return. “Do it a third time and I’ll start to suspect you have a thing for delayed gratification.”

He released her hand and stood, gathering all of their dishes to deposit them into the sink. Sarah knew darn well that they weren’t going to get washed beyond a ‘soak’ if she left him to it, but when she affectionately rolled her eyes and tried to make a grab for them, he shooed her away.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ll fetch you when it’s time.”

Still bubbling with curiosity, Sarah opted for the library. Maybe the TARDIS could supply her with some useful material in the meantime.

-

The ship did indeed provide her with something to fill the time, taking the shape of a set of somewhat beaten but largely intact textbooks, all of which detailed the stunningly complex and slightly dizzying detail of Gallifreyan life. Sarah settled in and made her way through the plethora of pages at a casual pace.

“These must be ancient,” she thought aloud. “With the way he bangs on about superior Time Lord this and that, you’d think the history could fill this whole library.”

Photographs as well as illustrations accompanied the large amounts of text, and some of the former left Sarah with a strange feeling. She’d looked at several alien-penned books by now, but there was something more, something special to see evidence of the Doctor’s home planet. Though he himself was obviously very real, any discussion of Gallifrey was usually fleeting, and she’d seen no visual proof of it even once until now.

She traced her fingers over the full-page photo of a forest ecosystem, pausing on the shining silver leaves of the trees. They looked more like something out of a fantasy novel than real life, and yet there it was in front of her. But where the images made her mind run wild, the text itself had a strange sense of sanitization to it, as though written with the purpose of conveying absolutely no sign of emotional investment. There was no flourish, no fun, and overall was incredibly dry. Maybe instead of plodding through arid academic pages, she could convince the Doctor to talk about it later himself.

A dull tremor throughout the ship announced that it had fully materialized somewhere, but having felt it many times before, Sarah paid it no mind and continued to pore over the books she’d selected.

Next in the pile was a more recent book with a cross-section of a female humanoid figure on the cover, drawn in typical scientific nude fashion. Now this was exactly what she’d been looking for: an anatomy book. Silently she thanked whoever had been so grossly invested in Gallifreyan physiology in order to make this book a reality, because it was about to become much more useful to her than any other book in the library at that moment, and if one were to walk by the doors, one would have heard Sarah’s hushed commentary, spoken low and with the nervousness of someone expecting to be caught doing something they know they shouldn’t.

Laid out on the next page before her was the same female drawing from the cover, along with a mildly disturbing photo of an actual cross-sectioned model. Bizarre fleshy tubes were highlighted throughout her upper torso, marked every dozen or so centimeters by soft-looking protuberances that made Sarah think of bubblegum. The caption read ‘pulmonary tubes’ and showed an accompanying diagram of how the little bubblegum bumps inflated and cycled air throughout its closed system.

“All this time I thought he had a normal set of lungs. Teach me to make any more assumptions… but tubes?”

“You know better than that by now. ‘Normal’ is highly subjective.”

Sarah looked up from the book to see the Doctor standing in the doorway, shoulders relaxed, with his hands in his pockets. He leisurely approached, smiling as he stopped in front of her spot on the sofa.

“And yes, tubes. They’re quite efficient.”

“Everything in your body seems to be,” said Sarah.

“You’re not wrong.” The Doctor tilted his head to examine the pile of other books on the table. “Fancied yourself a bit of extraterrestrial education?”

“I was curious!” She shrugged. “You said you were busy, so I found something interesting to read about. The one about Gallifrey wasn’t very engaging in its text, but the photographs were beautiful.”

The Doctor smiled. “I see.” He lifted the stack and selected the one at the bottom, flipped to a page, shot a sly look at her over the edge of the cover, then shut it with one hand. “I hope you haven’t spoiled yourself for what’s to come.”

She shook her head. “Still above the waist in this chapter.”

“Excellent.” He set the book down and held out his hand.

Sarah set her book down as well and took his hand, following him out of the library. “So where have we landed?” she asked.

“I’d rather us not stay floating about in space while we further acquaint ourselves with one another.”

“Is it safe?”

As they entered the console room, the Doctor reached out to tap a familiar set of buttons, opening the viewscreen and revealing an expanse of snowy fog settling over a stunning mountain vista. Alien evergreens poked up from the ground in all directions, their branches coated in the fresh white powder while steam wafted from a rushing stream just to the right of the TARDIS. The stream carried down the hill until it pooled in a natural spring around which grew strange glowing plants that resembled large mushrooms. Their light cast a pleasant orange hue across the pure white of the ground.

“Oh!” Sarah gasped, taken by the picturesque surroundings. “Now that’s worth a postcard.”

“It’s as safe as remote mountain valleys go,” he finally answered. “And stunning, I know. We can have a look, if you like.”

Sarah nudged his hip. “I _would_ like, but we have a previous engagement to get to, first. Though it does set the mood well. Cold and snowy outside, warm and cozy inside? Now all we need is the right lighting.”

As if on cue, the lights in the room and the hallway dimmed to a pleasant firelight.

“Exactly what I had in mind.” If she didn’t know any better, she might have accused him of working with his ship to make the perfect atmosphere. 

The lights continued to dim throughout the ship, following them as they made their way down the hall to a door Sarah had not seen before. It was flush to the rest of the wall as usual, made unique only by the brass handle that stuck out from its side. On the center of the handle was a circular glyph of some kind, though she wasn’t sure if it was a word or just decoration. The Doctor took hold and opened it, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him.

Inside was a room much more suited to the low lighting now illuminating the ship than the stark white of the halls, covered floor to ceiling in warm, earthy tones of mostly red, brown, and purple. Persian rugs lay across the floor and a large hanging canopy draped from the highest corner of the room to a low anchor point near a chest of drawers, and underneath its rich burgundy color was a very large bed that appeared as though no one had slept in it in quite some time. Yet it was neatly made and inviting with its plush comforter and soft pillows, all but beckoning Sarah to run forward and lie down.

Other furniture in the bedroom wouldn’t have looked out of place in the market they’d visited, being a bit eclectic in make, but similar in that they shared a lot of brass elements. A cedar chest, this one squat and long with a nice cushion placed atop it, sat across from the doorway, and next to that was an out of place metal case locked up tight, and a coat rack identical to the one in the console room. A small assortment of hats and another scarf similar to the one the Doctor wore tangled around the wooden pegs, and under those hung his more familiar coats.

After taking in the room’s contents, Sarah noticed that aside from the bed, the room was decidedly untidy.

“It’s very you,” she said. “Don’t you use it more often? That bed looks like it’s barely been touched!”

“Often enough,” said the Doctor. “I don’t have much reason to come here compared to other sections of the TARDIS.”

“Yes, well, now you do,” Sarah joked. “If you’re not going to sleep in it, we can give it another purpose.”

“Sarah?”

She turned, her smile slipping as she caught the Doctor’s slightly somber expression. He had that faraway look to him again. “Yes?”

“Are you all right? You’re trembling.”

So she was. She lifted their clasped hands together and squeezed his. “S’only jitters. I’m excited, not worried!”

He raised their hands the rest of the way and kissed the back of hers, then let her go. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Wasting no time, Sarah flopped backwards onto the bed with her arms stretched wide. The duvet fluffed out from under her, then settled back down as she snuggled into her selected space. Toeing off her shoes, she tucked her legs onto the bed and turned onto her side, propping her head up to watch as the Doctor slowly peeled away the layers of his clothing. Hat, scarf, coat, cravat… he was deliberate with each small movement, taking his time as he moved on to undo every button.

“Teasing me, Doctor?”

Off went his waistcoat, hung with care on the rack. Next he tucked his thumbs under his braces and slipped both straps off his shoulders. “Is it working?”

“I didn’t even know you wore braces.”

“I have to have something to keep my trousers up, don’t I?”

“Not anymore.”

As she busied herself with removing her own topmost layers, the Doctor drew closer to the bed. He’d unbuttoned only the top of his shirt, then paused to watch Sarah. With her head down, she missed the way his soft gaze lingered over every inch of her, and the way his hands twitched before diving back toward his pockets. They hesitated, then hung at his sides once more. He wanted so badly to touch her but remained where he was, waiting for Sarah to reach out first, and so elected to sit on the edge with her instead, setting his hands between his knees.

Sarah stopped when her camisole was all that was left on her upper half, then tapped the Doctor’s arm. He moved to accommodate her and made a small noise of surprise as she swung her leg over his, planting herself squarely on his lap.

“How should we do this?” she asked him in a hushed voice. 

“However you’d like us to,” he answered just as quietly.

Her suggestion came in the form of a kiss, at first awkward and even a little stiff, but as she leaned into him and set her hands upon his shoulders, the rigidity in the Doctor’s posture slacked and he set his arms around her waist. Unsurprisingly, Sarah could taste a sweetness in his mouth and her lips curved into a smile mid-kiss, unable to keep herself from giggling. He soon followed, asking gently what was so funny.

“Did you eat some of your jelly babies before you came to get me?”

“While I was working. You’re not implying I did it specifically for this?”

“It feels more fitting for you than going for breath spray.”

As he chuckled at her joke, one of her hands traced its way up to his jaw, where she cupped the side of his face and stroked his cheek with her thumb. Skin gave way to the soft curl of his sideburns as she moved her hand to slide further back into his hair, where she carefully scratched at his scalp. The Doctor’s amused mumble quickly turned into a satisfied groan and he leaned into her generous touch.

“Like that, do you?” 

He gripped her back, clutching the fabric of her camisole. “Yes.”

Sarah hadn’t done much in the way of kissing anyone for the last few years and felt less confident than she would have liked as she went back in for more, but the Doctor didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he had a similar halting nature to his approach, almost as though he was concerned about the very same thing. Still, she loved the softness of his lips and the contrasting scratch of the pale stubble on his chin. Her other hand found its place on the back of his neck and she pulled him toward her, earning a muffled grunt as he was pulled off balance.

“You’re going to send us both off the edge of the bed,” he chided.

“Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all.

Focusing on his shirt, Sarah made short work of the remaining buttons. Underneath there was no sign of the red splotches from the day before, leaving just the normal expanse of skin and curly chest hair for her to take in. Even after she’d held hands with him, felt his embrace, and even kissed him now, it was strange to touch him and be greeted with his cool body temperature – though he did feel a tiny bit warmer than normal. Bringing her other hand up, she set them over each of his hearts and was rewarded with a noticeable increase in his already rapid pulses under her palms.

“Sarah,” he started, then paused. His hands came up to grasp her wrists. “Hm.”

Seeing him at a loss for what to say was just as strange as his alien physiology. “What is it?”

“Would you allow me to take care of you? I’ve something I’d like to do, and you’ll have to pardon me for being selfish, but I’d like to be the one to do it first.”

“All right. How do you want me?”

The Doctor pressed his lips together and smiled, clearly resisting the urge to respond with a double entendre. “Lie down, please.”

Reluctantly she slid away from him and did just that, propping herself up on her elbows. The Doctor rose from his spot and kneeled in front of her, then reached up to undo the button on her trousers. Its zip followed, pulled with the same teasing slowness that he’d done for his own clothes. Sarah’s muscles tensed as he curled his fingers behind the waistband.

“Come on, up,” he softly commanded.

She complied without hesitation and her jeans were slipped away in one quick motion, revealing her slightly damp pants for him to see. More antsy than self-conscious, she squeezed her legs together to hide them from view.

“I can’t work with your thighs together,” the Doctor tutted, then slipped a hand between them to push them open once more. 

Excitement jolted through her gut and goosebumps rose on her legs as she fought her hardest to keep still and let him do as he intended. She still couldn’t believe this was happening, actually happening, and wasn’t just in her head. “Sorry,” she peeped, and this time she meant it.

No reply came. The Doctor was instead focused on her, hovering over the slowly darkening fabric between her legs. Silent, he lifted his eyes to hers once more in a final search for approval. Sarah nodded vigorously and swallowed, anxious. With that, he dropped his gaze and touched her at last, rubbing her through her pants. He’d been apparently holding his breath, as barely-warm air ghosted over her inner thighs as he got to work. Was _he_ nervous? It was difficult to imagine.

Soon the pants joined her trousers on the floor and she lay there, fully exposed in front of this alien man she’d come to care for so much. It was her turn to hold her breath as she waited to see what he would do. Mischief glittered in his eyes as he stuck his finger in his mouth, then slid it along her sex, ever so gently parting her lips as it went. Up and down it trailed, until finally he slid into her, and Sarah gasped.

“A bit chilly,” she joked. Her voice wavered as he stroked her from the inside. “But I’ll just have to get used to that, won’t I.”

The Doctor exhaled through his nose. “And you, you’re a furnace.”

How had she not thought about that before? Of course she would be incredibly hot from his perspective; her body temperature was nearly 40 degrees higher than his! The coolness didn’t linger for long as he warmed to her, but when a second finger was introduced it startled her just the same.

God, if his fingers were this cool, what would his cock feel like? Sarah covered her face and bent her knees, though one of them didn’t get very far as the Doctor kept it pinned under his free hand. He shook his head.

“Really, Sarah, how can I move on if you keep doing this?”

“I just thought about your – never mind, we’ll get there later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now get on with it!”

Laughing fully at that, he mumbled a ‘my pleasure’ before lowering his head to set his mouth right on her. Sarah managed an ‘oh!’ of surprise as his wide tongue parted her lips, starting where his fingers steadily pumped in and out, and ending with a teasing flick at her clitoris.

Humming in satisfaction, she reached for his head. His curls twined easily around her fingers. “Try- hold on, try sucking at it a little.”

When he did, her elbow holding her up threatened to give out. Wet lips surrounded her clitoris, paired with ever-so-careful suction and a follow-up from the tip of his tongue. Sarah let her head hang back between her shoulders and closed her eyes, happy to soak in the sensations.

“Oh, _Doctor_...”

His chuckle vibrated through her flesh and nearly sent her upright. Alternating between the concentrated attention on her clitoris and a broader teasing with his tongue, the Doctor settled into a nice rhythm that Sarah found easy to get lost in. Lying flat on the bed now, she squirmed under his touch, her abdomen tightening when his tongue lapped just the right spot or when his fingers slid out to rub along the slick rim of her labia. 

Would three be too much? Sarah was small in build and his hands were rather large, after all.

The Doctor abruptly stopped and Sarah nearly cried. He withdrew his hand and placed his fingers back in his mouth, taking his time to savor the taste coating his skin. She saw his tongue slide over his knuckles, getting every last drop he could manage – he was relishing it, and the realization turned her on more than she would have thought it to. Then, with little warning, he returned to his previous ministrations, but this time with three attentive fingers instead of two. Sarah held her breath, and as his lips settled with a kiss to her clitoris, hot tension burst and flared in her gut.

She’d never had the explosive orgasms that some women claimed to have, with all the stars behind their eyelids and feelings of crashing ocean waters. No, she always had softer building waves in her pleasure, tingly warmth that surged up to her chest and down to the tips of her toes, then the rest of her body. Grinding down against the Doctor’s mouth, she arched her back and squeezed her eyes shut, twisting her head to the side as she let out a sharp hiss of pleasure. She felt him smile against her.

Stroking ceased slowly, easing her down from her climax. Sarah shuddered and held out a hand, which hung lonely in the air for a moment before the Doctor took hold.

“Crikey, you’ve got a gift for that." Her words bled into one another like a long, lazy sigh. “Another one of your natural talents?”

“No,” he replied. There was a rustle as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Some things simply come with time and practice.”

She opened her eyes then, staring at the canopy above the bed. The Doctor’s face came into view and she motioned for him to come closer so she could kiss him, but now intent on distracting her was a hardness that prodded her thigh as he leaned over. She nudged it and the Doctor startled, nearly breaking the kiss.

“Careful,” he growled once he backed away. “Please, no knees.” 

“Don’t fret, I barely grazed you.” Sarah sat up and eyed him salaciously. He rested on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Hunched over or not, there was no hiding the evidence of his arousal. “ _Well_ , aren't you just bursting to show me,” she added. Despite her teasing tone, the sight made her stomach flutter.

The Doctor stood and held up his hands in a placating gesture, then pulled down the zip of his trousers to let them fall and pool around his feet. The rest of his clothing joined the pile, finally exposing all of his body, and he slid back onto the bed next to Sarah, holding the side of his head up with his hand. He smirked and raised his eyebrows and grinned ear to ear as he waited for her to speak.

Wiry was definitely the right word for him. He had plenty of muscle, but for all his strength it was all so much softer looking, less defined on the surface. She found she liked it that way, really. A softer shell was more inviting, more cuddly, and more appealing to think about pressed up next to her own naked body. 

“I never did say it out loud, but I think you’re very handsome,” said Sarah. “I’ve thought it for some time now.”

He looked at her seriously and for a blink there was a glimpse of the centuries-old being he really was behind his youthful face. Sarah’s breath caught and she pulled her eyes away from his face – only to land right on his cock, which, much to her relief, looked very much like that of a human’s. Something didn’t quite seem right, however, and she furrowed her brow as she scrutinized it, earning an accusatory huff from the Doctor.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“Not at all. May I?” Sarah asked in turn, gesturing to him. She was eager to touch and see just how similar, and how different, he truly was.

The Doctor rolled over onto his back to give her clear access, setting his hands behind his head. He was terribly amused by her curiosity, a smile fighting his lips constantly as he watched her.

Despite the increase in warmth from the extra blood flow, it was barely hotter than the rest of him, and aside from that there was nothing really alien about it. Normal foreskin still covered the ridge of the head, which Sarah gently pulled back. Tiny pearly papules ringed the newly uncovered portion of the head, and when she ran her thumb over them the Doctor groaned deep in his chest. He was of modest size – somewhat unexpected given how large the rest of his body was, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud and bruise his ego. As far as she was concerned, it was a perfectly fine cock.

Delicate fingers closed around it and gave an experimental tug, and the Doctor took in a steady breath.

“We need to talk about something important,” he said, somehow managing a level tone as Sarah continued to stroke him. “Seeing as we’re already here.”

Sarah was only half-listening, her attention still fully on his bits. Her eyes followed the line of dark, curly hair below his navel, down past his cock and noticed that something important seemed to be missing. She gasped, and the Doctor halted mid-sentence.

“What is it?”

“You haven’t got any balls!”

“What are you talking about? Yes I have! They’re right here, plain as day.”

He parted his legs enough to show off a prominent rounded feature just below his cock, though Sarah was comfortable in wagering that any human who saw it would say that it didn’t look like any sac they’d ever seen. Hair covered it like she expected, and it did look soft and delicate, but it was comfortably nestled as though half-hidden inside his torso. Whatever this was, it was a lot _less_ vulnerable than a dangling ballbag.

“This?” she said, not entirely believing him. Gently stroking it with her finger got exactly the aroused reaction she was hoping for, but wasn’t sure she would get. The entirety of the Doctor’s abdomen tightened and relaxed when she drew her hand away.

The Doctor’s voice was breathy when he spoke. “Yes, there, you see?” He shook his head at her. “Honestly, did you think it would look exactly like what you’re used to? I even said it wouldn’t! Mammal evolution is impractical in many ways, but fully external genitalia with no natural protection is a hideous oversight. Miracle it’s lasted this long.”

It was Sarah's turn to laugh. "In my defense, you look pretty standard otherwise!”

His head jerked back. “ _Standard?_ ”

“Normal by human standards, I mean.”

“You’re exceedingly good at making a man feel very special and appreciated.” The Doctor mustered up an impressive pout, which faltered almost immediately as Sarah gave him another languid stroke. He fisted the duvet and his jaw tightened.

“Well, you haven’t shagged me yet. How can I judge you or any part of you until you do?”

“Did these not count?” he asked, wiggling his fingers.

“Oh, they’re definitely good, but I can only judge you insofar as giving me a good poke. You’ve got to shag me proper so I can give you the right kind of answer. Isn’t that also what you said?”

“Why, I believe you’re correct, Miss Smith, but that’s what we need to discuss.”

Sarah settled over his chest, resting her chin on stacked hands. “Can’t it wait?”

“We didn’t administer the test I suggested. Seeing as you’ve not brought any barrier protection with you to our little get-together, and neither have I, I’m exposing you to a potential allergen.”

“You said this was supposed to be safe!”

“It is! But being thorough never hurt anyone.”

“And yet you didn’t stop me on the way here.”

He cleared his throat. “So I didn’t. I admit I’ve been as eager to do this as you have, so it may have, er, slipped from my immediate attention once I sought you out in the library.”

“Can we not go through with this, then?”

“We still can. I’ll just have to be vigilant, and luckily for you, a Time Lord has astounding control over his body at any given time.”

“You mean like you had back in the hallway, when your astounding control failed and you forgot about the test?”

The Doctor scowled at her. Sarah leaned forward to kiss him and his scowl dissolved, replaced by a resigned sigh. “What I mean is," he said, "I have more control than a human over my orgasm response. Longer delay between pulling the trigger and firing, if you will. It’s really very use-”

Sarah put her hand over his mouth to stop him. “Please, Doctor. I understand, and I trust you. I’d really like to shag you now, if that’s all right.”

He kissed the palm of her hand and pulled it away from his mouth. “How do you want me?” he asked, echoing her own words.

She looked behind her at his hips. “Like this is just fine,” she said, and brought her leg over so she could sit on his midsection. “I’m not too heavy?”

“Light as a feather.”

He set his hands on her hips and steadied her as she reached behind and grabbed him, then lowered herself in a deliciously smooth motion. They both exhaled and sat still for a moment as Sarah shut her eyes and basked in the situation. She'd never done much in the way of temperature play, but with the way he felt inside her, she wished she had. Firm and so very alive, but cool, almost chill, and pressed into her to the base, the Doctor caressed her thighs as she took a few even breaths, his fingertips wonderfully rough against her delicate skin.

“Oh, my Sarah.”

She wasn’t ready for how those words with that inflection would affect her, but that was all it took to get her to move, grinding down against him with new vigor. The Doctor held her in place as he thrust up, first a bit sloppy and out of sync with her movements, then gradually falling into a steady pace. His grip was like iron on her legs, like he was he afraid she’d disappear if he let her go.

Sarah smiled and leaned forward, placing her hands over his hearts as she had done earlier. The combined pulse wildly hammered against his chest, and it was all her doing. Smugly satisfied, she rolled her hips more forcefully, rode him harder, panted his title like she loved the way it felt on her tongue.

The Doctor’s breath hitched and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. He set his head back on the duvet, his curls framing and partially obscuring his face. Sarah tilted her head and took in this unguarded, lovely side of him as he squirmed underneath her and let slip little gasps for air. She wanted to snog him stupid, looking like that. Where did he get off being so adorable and so attractive all at once? 

“Oh, _Sarah_ ,” the Doctor repeated, then sat up so suddenly that Sarah let out a yelp. He held onto her and steadied them both, then slowly turned their bodies to lie along the length the bed. Instead of settling down on his back once more, he lowered Sarah and hovered above her, hands on either side of her head. “My Sarah Jane.”

Emotion welled up in her chest, unfortunately spilling over the edge and manifesting as misty tears in her eyes. She wiped at them and sniffed. She was _not_ going to cry while having sex with the Doctor, of all people. What on earth would she have reason to do that for?

Sensing her distress, he shifted his weight to his forearms and set his forehead against hers. A wordless _tap-tap-tap_ at her brain followed, little nails clicking against a door.

“Calm, Sarah,” he whispered. “Let me in?”

With a deep breath, she did, and a warm flow of calm engulfed her. Under his caring touch her whole body relaxed, and the tears quickly dried. Intense feelings of a different kind galloped through her thoughts, and some that _weren’t_ her thoughts. Were they the Doctor’s? It was hard to tell, being a little preoccupied by the odd feedback loop that was beginning to surface from their connection. In her mind, her feet were right at the edge of a cavern, and she, looking down into its abyssal depths. An increasing urge to jump in, to fully embrace what lay inside, built up in her thoughts, pushing and pulling at her body simultaneously as she grappled with her desire to stay where she knew it was safe.

“Perhaps next time we’ll go further,” he said. The image of the cavern slowly dissolved into the red-black of the back of Sarah’s eyelids. Tenderly, he withdrew from her mind. “That might be a bit much at this moment.”

Strain and a hint of sadness laced his words. He’d wanted very badly to stay in her head, she could tell, but she was grateful that he recognized her limits before anything could sour their experience. Deciding that a good kiss was in order, she pulled his face close and did just that – then she peppered several pecks on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and back down to his neck. If she was _his_ Sarah Jane, then he was _her_ Doctor, and he was going to be kissed within an inch of his life if that was what she wanted. It went on until he was gently laughing - _giggling, even!_ \- into her hair, face tucked in close to hers.

Released from her rain of kisses, he cradled her head in one hand and lifted her hips further with the other, allowing himself a better angle for his thrusting. Sarah bit back a cry as she felt him deeper and thought about how he was such a perfect fit. Not too big, not too small, absolutely just right. Of all the wild aliens she could have met in her life, it was this one, and he was wonderful and frustrating and just a little bit mad and – and they fit each other like a glove.

“Steady,” said the Doctor after a while, his voice anything but. His arm shook as he held himself up and, much to Sarah’s disappointment, slid out from inside her.

“ _Doctor_ ,” she whined, already missing it.

He shushed her and petted her hair, then took hold of her legs and set them both against his shoulder and rested his cheek on her shin. At her bemused look, he made his intentions clear and pushed his slick cock between her thighs and groaned, loudly appreciative of the way she squeezed them together afterward.

“Just… just to be safe,” he added. He was close, certainly. His stare, glazed with arousal, was as starry as the sky above their little mountain retreat.

Sarah stretched her arms above her head, then walked her fingers down to tease the head of his cock each time it pushed forward between her legs. Clear, slippery fluid dripped onto her stomach and pubic hair with each of his movements. They grew more erratic, as did his breaths, coming in shallow gasps as his face contorted in pleasure.

“Come on, Doctor,” Sarah coaxed. “ _My_ Doctor.”

He gave a choked shout and thrust sharply once, twice, then curled over her as he came. It splattered over her stomach and chest, nearly as clear as the drips, but thick and viscous, much more than a human’s. Like the rest of him, it was weirdly cool to the touch.

“D’you have it in you to…?” she asked once she got his attention once more, and gestured to her crotch.

“Of course,” he hurriedly answered, and a quick administration of his deft hands brought Sarah to her second lovely climax.

“I only ever manage one at a time by myself,” Sarah confessed, breathless. “This is much better.”

The Doctor nuzzled her leg. “It’s my privilege to provide,” he murmured. “Now, if you’re willing to take a break, we’ll pop over to the infirmary and get that test out of the way.”

She stared him down in disbelief. “My _god_ , you’re not even winded.”

“I recover very quickly.”

“Well I don’t! Can’t you give me at least a few minutes?” Sarah sputtered, pleading with her eyes. “I don’t think I could make it there right now unless you carried me.”

The Doctor pulled away and gently set her legs down. “I could carry you,” he reminded her. “I have several times.” At her warning glare, he put his hand up, palm out. “Yes, we can wait a few minutes.”

Sarah dipped a fingertip into the fluid on her chest. It was incredibly thick and just the tiniest bit tacky, but in a way she’d not seen or felt before. It slowly fell from her hand like honey from a spoon.

“Why’s it so…” She crinkled her nose while thinking of the right word to use. “Syrupy?”

“Evolution is an odd thing, isn’t it?” The Doctor trailed a finger through another drop. “Female Gallifreyans and humans both produce similar vaginal fluid, but the difference lies in the reaction when they come into contact with their respective species' ejaculates. In humans, well, of course you know all about what happens, but in Gallifreyans, the mixture transforms into more of a paste that sticks to the walls. The tackier, the better, and the more likely it is to result in pregnancy.”

Hoping her discomfort wasn’t too obvious, Sarah raised her brows. If she didn’t already know him, she would have thought it unbelievable that he went from irresistibly sexy to uncomfortably clinical in a snap. But she knew him fairly well by now. “That’s… interesting,” she finally said. “A little bit disgusting, but interesting.”

“It’s not disgusting, Sarah! It’s _fascinating_ , the differences between superficially similar species.” The Doctor nudged her goodnaturedly in the ribs. “This is one of the reasons why I said that fertilization wouldn’t be possible. Because you see, inside you, my contribution is without its key chemical counterpart, so it fails to bind and will eventually break down and liquefy. It has nothing to adhere to, and so becomes useless.”

The image of the stuff dripping out of her from around the Doctor’s cock flashed across her mind and a spike of arousal hit her square in the gut. Leave it to him to turn it right back around and find a way to make an extremely frank anatomical discussion arousing, even if by accident.

“I do see,” she nearly croaked.

“That, and, given your comparatively scorching body temperature, none of the cells would survive for long. But here I am, prattling on when we should be cleaning you up.” In an instant he was up and off the bed, striding towards the attached bathroom. “Can’t have that kind of mess about.”

One warm washcloth later, the Doctor managed to peel Sarah from the bed and get her on her feet, though she swayed slightly. It couldn’t be helped if her bones felt like jelly after what he’d done to her! He offered her a dressing gown that was several sizes too large but was nonetheless cozy, so she eagerly accepted. It smelled like the Doctor and Sarah was all to happy to indulge in this by burying her nose in the inner fold of its lapel.

Fishing another from the crevices of the room, the Doctor slipped it on and led Sarah into the hallway. Curiously, the floor was much warmer than normal, sparing them the misery of walking barefoot on icy metal plates, but her focus was on the way he grasped her hand loosely and playfully, only gripping a few of her fingers rather than her entire palm.

She’d not been in the infirmary much. Considering how much trouble they found themselves in, that was a feat to be recognized. It was a sterile white like the majority of the TARDIS interior, stocked with varied supplies and tools hanging from the walls and stowed away in cabinets. A single bed sat on the far end of the room.

“Have a seat,” the Doctor instructed. He went straight to one of the cabinets and retrieved a needle, and from a chilled box on top of the counter, a plastic vial.

“Hold on, you didn’t say anything about needles!”

“Come now, Sarah, surely you’ve been tested for an allergy before?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the items in his hands. “All it takes is a tiny pinprick on your arm and a little bit of patience.”

“Oh, it's like a scratch test?”

“Not _like_ one; it _is_ a scratch test.”

She eyed the vial as he unscrewed the cap. The small amount of clear fluid within dripped with a now familiar honey consistency. “With your – Doctor, you can’t be serious.”

That got her a momentary side glance. “I am, one hundred percent. I’d much rather find out this way than by inadvertently sending you into an anaphylactic fit in the midst of passion.”

“Could that have really happened to me?”

“In an extreme circumstance, yes. Give me your arm, will you? There’s a good girl.” He placed a tiny droplet on her inner forearm.

“And you just happened to have this ready?”

“No. I did say I had something to take care of before you left for the library.”

Sarah began to slowly smile again, but devilishly. “So you went to toss one off for science.”

“I can’t obtain a sample otherwise and it’s not as though I keep a ready stock at any given time. This is a bit of a special case and, as you’ve seen, I recover quickly, so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. What?”

Sarah couldn’t keep her snickering contained. “Nothing, it’s – nothing!”

The needle grazed her for a fraction of a second.

“There. Now we just wait and see. If there’s no reaction, then we can continue on our merry way and never give it a second thought.” The Doctor quickly did away with the vial and needle. “And if there’s anything worse, I’m well prepared for that.”

In the meantime they returned to the kitchen for tea.

Sarah leaned back in the chair, snuggly in the overlarge robe, still having a bit of trouble grasping that everything that just happened, really happened. What wasn’t difficult to believe was the way the Doctor acted as if what had occurred in the last hour changed nothing whatsoever. Even so, it came across not as an insult, but a sign of comfort. He was at ease with her now as he had always been, and adapted this new facet of life with Sarah aboard the TARDIS without so much as a grumble.

It made Sarah’s heart feel full.

“Tell me about where we are while we wait?” she asked.

“A tiny little planet on the edge of the galaxy called Ios. In this time it’s been devoid of civilization for centuries, leaving the plants and animals to do as they will with the remains of society.” The Doctor set out two mugs on the counter. “It used to be heavily polluted and quite a grim place to visit, but a few years without anyone around to dump sewage into water supplies and manufacture useless commodities to distract a desperate and struggling world populace makes a magnificent difference.”

“What happened to the people?”

“Some left. Most stayed – and died.”

“How awful.”

“Oh, yes, and it’s even worse than it sounds. Those who left were the very same ones to put the majority in harm’s way.” The Doctor grimaced and shook his head. “They won’t learn their lesson, either. They’ll simply take their greed to another world and inflict pain upon it as well.” He removed the kettle from its place and poured hot water into both mugs. “So now Ios thrives, but in silence, nurtured by the bones of the people it once tried to support.”

“Grim is right,” said Sarah.

“Yes, but also bright!”

“How do you mean? If they’re all dead, what’s so bright about that?”

“Well, everything has its time, doesn’t it? The loss of a species is a great tragedy, but Ios goes on, and so will some other life that learns to take the place of its missing brethren.”

“Phoenixes from the ashes.” Sarah half-smiled.

“Now you’re getting it.” He handed her one of the mugs and stood near the table. 

“That’s very optimistic of you, hoping a whole species will make good on a second chance they don’t even realize they’ve been given.”

“I’ve seen it happen,” said the Doctor. “I’ve seen tremendous compassion in species that somehow also manage to tear themselves apart from the inside out. A little bit of optimism is, at times, all the universe needs to keep on going.”

Pleasant silence blanketed the kitchen for several minutes.

“It is beautiful, though. How it is now.” Sarah smiled as she sipped her tea. Its warmth blossomed from her stomach outward and the ceramic was wonderfully hot in her hands. “Nothing’s wrong with space, but having solid ground under us for this feels right.” 

Silently he agreed, nodding before he went for his own drink. 

A silly thought came to Sarah and her lips quirked against her mug. "For want of a coil, the shirt was lost," she said. "For want of a shirt-"

"-the desire was made known," continued the Doctor, "and with that knowledge, the deal was struck. All for the want of a Volkan coil." He shared a pleased smirk with her, then gestured to her sleeve. "How is your arm?”

Pulling back the dressing gown’s sleeve, Sarah inspected her skin. Not a trace of red could be seen. “It looks just like it always does,” she said and held it out for him to see. Steadying her at the wrist, the Doctor leaned closer.

“No redness, no swelling, not so much as a bump,” he announced. “No reaction here! I can now comfortably say that I pose no sexual danger to you in any way, shape, or form, miss Smith.”

The urge to tease rose quickly and she stuck out her bottom lip. “So does that mean there’ll be no repeat performances of what happened today?”

“I see no reason to strike intercrural sex from our activity list, Sarah.” The Doctor paused, thought a moment, then bent over so his mouth hovered near her ear. “Even if I do find the prospect of coming inside you to be very appealing.”

Without missing a beat he kissed her cheek and straightened up, leaving Sarah with an intense blush.

“With your permission, of course,” he added, raising his mug at her.

Sarah _hmph_ ed. “You won’t have to ask, Doctor. It’s my cunt; if I want you to come in it, I’ll tell you.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes and grinned, open-mouthed, mischievously. “Sarah,” he hissed, “that was _filthy_.”

“And so will we be in about twenty minutes.”

“Ah, so you’re not sated after all.”

“Not a chance! I’m not done with you, yet. I’ve waited long enough and I’m not going to let any shred of this opportunity go waltzing out the door if I can help it.”

-

It ended up being much more than twenty minutes later. 

Sarah lay with one arm draped across the Doctor’s chest, head rested comfortably on his arm and one leg tangled with his. The double thump-thump under her hand made her smile and she slid her touch up and down his torso, tapping his taut skin every few inches or so with her nails. One of his hands came up to still her actions, his grip strong and comforting.

“You have a remarkable sexual appetite,” said the Doctor.

Unknowingly, he’d struck a sore spot. Sarah lifted her head and glared at him. “Yes, and? What of it?”

He began to laugh. “Nothing, I–”

But Sarah already had her response ready and bowled right over anything he was about to say. “All my life I’ve heard conflicting ideas about what I should do,” she growled, “or what I shouldn’t do. Good girls don’t do this, or that, or… whatever else. God forbid we take our sexuality back into our own hands and embrace our own desires!”

The Doctor said nothing, only listening with his eyebrows raised and a faint, amused smile on his lips.

“And I’m not about to… oh, I’m sorry," she mumbled. "Listen to me, letting that get under my skin. And coming from you! I know you didn’t mean it like that.” Setting her head back down, she brought her other hand up to rub her face. She briefly wondered if feminism existed on Gallifrey, or if the women there no longer had to worry about such things. 

“It wasn’t a complaint, Sarah. In fact,” he said, shifting slightly so he could turn to face her, “quite the opposite. I find myself drawn to your demands for more. Excited, even.”

“It’s funny. I thought for so long that you could do without all of… this.”

Yet, there they were. Sarah sure felt it, too, flushed from head to toe and having hair that now resembled a battered painter’s brush, but most damning was the thick, slippery wetness coated on the crux of her thighs. Most of it still lazily dripped from within her, trailing down her skin to the sheets below. She hoped the Doctor didn’t mind a few wet spots on his bed. Not that he would have room to complain, since it was his fault in the first place.

“Oh, well, that’s not necessarily untrue. I and other Time Lords may not be sexually motivated in the same way that many other species are, but that doesn’t mean I feel nothing at all, nor that I don’t enjoy it. Obviously, I’m already enjoying this new aspect of our relationship very much.”

Affection oozed from each of his words and Sarah could only just barely stand it. She wriggled when he caressed her side with gentle fingers and pressed closer in their cuddle.

“When it’s you,” he went on, “how can I resist?”

Sarah angled her head to allow for a kiss. The Doctor scooped her into a protective snuggle the moment they parted and pulled her upper half atop him, then went back for more. They tasted like each other, their mouths having been a good number of titillating places.

“Do you still want to see the valley outside?” he asked, putting his fingers to her lips to momentarily stop her from kissing him again.

“Yes,” she replied, muffled. “What, now? I’m in the middle of kissing you, you daft alien.”

She did want to, but not for a little while still. When her mouth was released, she kissed him gently, sweetly, and set her forehead against his. The Doctor stared at her and did not blink, eyes roving over her face, taking in each of her features like he was filling a catalogue in his mind. It would have been uncomfortable were it anyone else’s eyes on her.

“I know you’re dying to tell me more about something or other on this planet,” she said, “but that will only be after I say we’re ready to leave this bedroom. Which won’t be too terribly much longer, because, unfortunately, I do have a limit for how much I can take in one day, and I do love to listen to you. Er, your voice, that is.”

The Doctor’s torso jerked as he soundlessly chuckled and crinkled his brow. “Yes, I know. The world might end if Sarah Jane Smith ever did what she’s told without a fuss.” He held his fingers over her temple, stopped, and kissed the spot instead.

“No, I’m ready to try that, now,” Sarah interjected, putting his hand right back where it had been. “You can come inside.”

“Haven’t I already?”

They’d have to check under the bed for her eyes, they rolled so hard. “I changed my mind, you’re not allowed.”

The Doctor laughed loudly this time, holding her close as he cautiously opened the connection between them. In crept the same comforting tendrils of his mind, reaching all corners of Sarah’s brain, and she shuddered out a sigh. Once more the cavern returned and she walked towards the edge.

“Let the bond take you,” he whispered, “don’t think about it too hard. Even breaths, Sarah, then… there, you have it.”

Sarah kissed his neck, his cheek, then his lips once more, and jumped in.

**Author's Note:**

> Sarah mentions having a Hitachi Magic Wand in this, and while I'm not entirely certain if they were for sale in the UK in the 1970s/early 80s, I did learn that they came onto the market in 1968 while looking into small research details for this story. I had no idea they were that old! You learn something every day.


End file.
